Two times, one in the iconoclast world repressed, the other elsewhere, a mosaic city, a world of parks. The link between the two is waking up from the one to the other presumably having died. Lacking consciousness of the actual moment of death so perhaps a dream. Thus the possibility of reawakening for real again in the repressive world as yet to die. Made these notes idly, referring as he thought not on himself but on another he imagined. Little knowing that that very night he would sleep and awake as described in a well equipped studio, view through the window of pearl-like morning light seeping across the most beautiful and as he would later discover most happy city in all the world. The shock was indeed so great so unbelievable the he did feel he must have died. How could he compare this with a dream? After the loss of the old memory, its replacement with a new past, rather a feeling of memory for at this point nothing was actually remembered, the question of the transition was abandoned. In effect he was alive so acted accordingly. Alone in the studio the old artist watched the new dawn. He had escaped! Contrary to all expectations. It felt good to be here attending to the spectacle of the dawn. Listening, he heard a bird then a flute then with increase of light, birds and flutes. Tears welled up in his eyes as it seemed they did every morning, so pleased was he wih the emotional splendour of the moment.